


Swept Away By Your Cyclone

by HecoHansen31



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Do thread carefully if anything related with health triggers you, F/M, Idiotic Talk About Soccer, Mention of Misogyny, Mention of Terminal Ilness and Cancer, Mention of slight homophobia, OOC! Hvitserk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: Meeting you at the place he dreaded the most wasn't certainly a simple coincidence.It is what he needed and what his Fate bound him to follow inevitably.No matter how much he pushes his Destiny away.
Relationships: Hvitserk (Vikings)/Reader, Hvitserk (Vikings)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Swept Away By Your Cyclone

Hvitserk honestly hadn’t wanted to come to that lunch out with the guys he played soccer with, but in the end, he had just said to himself ‘why the fuck not’.

Most of his brothers were outside of the country and he had a huge house where he had already done his whole list of finite legal activities.

And the illegal ones would have given Ivar a stroke, which he was supposed not to do since his brother was onto a new physical therapy, in a clinic abroad, which brought him to be completely exhausted whenever he facetimed Hvitserk.

He always pretended to act annoyed by their talks, but Hvitserk could see the way he desperately needed a familiar face to talk to, although he had been slowly discovering that apparently his little brother was developing a crush on one of the nurses, there.

Nobody ever expected him to notice something.

He had always been ‘the forgotten one’ in the family, the one that was unproblematic at best and slightly annoying at worst, his brothers searched for him and his approval constantly in a way that made Hvitserk proud, but also wonder…

… would they have still sought him if he had sided with the wrong one?

So, he just had decided to say fuck it all.

And ended up at what looked like the most disorganized lunch party he had ever been at.

And the last time he had ever been invited to a lunch, his father had told them that he’d be moving with his newest wife.

Number three or number four?

He couldn’t remember.

And Ubbe had kept on filling his cup with wine which had ended on his stepmother’s white dress.

At least Ivar had laughed then.

Right now, he was feeling the existential dread somebody felt just at the most awkward of social events.

He honestly liked the soccer team.

He had loved soccer since he was a child and when he had been invited in the team, after the members had seen him play with Sigurd and Ubbe in a small park, he had been beyond happy to take on that hobby.

Soccer was where he wasn’t somebody’s brother or somebody’s son.

He was Hvitserk, number five on his shirt.

He loved the sport, but to say that he was a true friend to any of the guys in the team would have been a straight up lie.

As any relationship among male friends who had seen each other naked, it was a mutual request of silence and support, that worked on the field, but not outside of it, although Hvitserk had gone out with them a few times to drink to their victories.

Lately, he just hadn’t felt like tolerating any of their BS, but the lunch party was a big thing.

Everyone had to bring something, and you weren’t allowed to leave till you were drunk enough to ask for a uber with a banana, instead of your phone.

The kind of party he wanted to be at when everything else in the world sucked.

He hadn’t honestly come there to enjoy anything.

He had come there to feel less alone.

He hadn’t thought of finding something more.

He hadn’t thought of finding you.

One of the reason why he didn’t like going out with the soccer team was that although he had grown up with brothers that were the worst kind of assholes, he had also grown up with a mother like Aslaug.

Who, as much as she was distracted with Ivar, had taught them to be socially awkward with girls (see Ivar) or damnably respectful of them (see the rest… kind of).

The soccer team were downright a group of assholes who thought that they had the world at their feet because they had conquered a few victories and they were the local celebrities.

Nothings for people like Hvitserk Ragnarssons.

But he didn’t like flaunting his richness or his state of fame.

With girls it worked till you wanted them to stop fucking your brothers.

(See Margrethe).

And in the end, Hvitserk had just conformed to the sole gift he had been given.

Invisibility.

He liked that the squad’s ego hid his.

And the squad’s ego increased when girls were involved.

A lot of them had a stable girl, some of the typical WAGS, pretty and dangerous with their acrylic nails, and although many players thought that they were the ones wearing the pants of the relationship it was the pretty thing around their necks, thought as nothing more than décor, who held their balls in their hands.

Hvitserk had honestly a mad respect for them.

But he hadn’t ever been interested in them.

Till he saw you being hounded over by some nothings of the squad, the kind of person that always stayed on the bench, because they had two left feet and a personality that would have made an ameba seem smart.

But if there was one thing that the whole squad thought was that every girl wanted to play hard to get with them.

Eventually they’d all kneel down to their superiority.

Many times a flock of girls, a lot younger, were found at their games and many of them were excited when they got picked for their ‘locker room tour’ just to get to do the walk of shame a few minutes after.

As football players counted it as a notch under their belts.

Hvitserk had been there, but now he couldn’t help but be disgusted of what a prick he had been back there.

You didn’t seem an eager young girl wanting to meet her idol.

You were very much uncomfortable as Roger grabbed your hand.

You looked like you very much not wanted to be there.

And Hvitserk took pity on your similar conditions.

“Roger…” the assaulter’s name wasn’t Roger, but it was an intimidation tactic, learned from the time when Sigurd had called Ivar ‘Shit’ for a whole semester.

It seemed to still work.

And in case whoever ‘Roger-isn’t-my-name’ had wanted to reply with the same violence as Ivar had done with Sigurd, Hvitserk might be smaller than him but he had a great agility that certainly came handy when your brothers spent the whole time throwing objects at each other.

And you just wanted to eat in piece your food.

In the kitchen.

At 3 A. M.

“… she is with me” it wasn’t the most ‘feminist’ anthem he could use, but he knew that anything else would have put you in the spotlight, meanwhile your whole body language said that you just wanted to stick to your own angle and be left alone “… fuck off”.

And Roger just moved away.

Assuring the alpha male persona always worked.

What a shitty world he lived in.

He expected some replies such as ‘I am not fucking with you’ or anything else that put you in the bitchy WAGS sector, he honestly wouldn’t have been pissed and he kind of deserved it…

… but instead you literally smiled so brightly at him, that it made him think that for a moment, just for a moment…

… it was worth to come at that shitty lunch.

“… not the best save, but thank you” you muttered lightly, clearly a bit more comfortable since Hvitserk was at a safe distance and he knew that his chubby cheeks (the sole remaining of a chubby infancy to which he wanted to go back one day) were definitely not a threat.

Even more when they opened in a smile mimicking yours.

Not with the same intensity…

… but you were shining with your own light.

And Hvitserk had burned it all down.

“You are welcome, he is a fucktard”.

This time you gifted him with a true smirk, making him stand there uncomfortably.

‘Get ahold of yourself, Hvitserk’ he muttered to his own head, as you lightly dusted off your dress, but it was clear as fuck that you weren’t exactly doing it because of necessity, but more because of the awkward silence between you both ‘… God damnit you have a reputation as a player to defend’.

But the truth was that right now, he didn’t want to be in the slightest a player.

Because you wouldn’t have been the type to be impressed by that.

Not in the annoying ‘not-like-the-other-girls’ attitude but more in the soft-spoken way that Hvitserk hadn’t ever been around, growing up with boys and toxic masculinity.

It was a wonder that he hadn’t thrown himself out of a building.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was scared of heights.

“… I just… I am honestly not there for any of the guys” ok, perfect, Hvitserk get the hint, move away slowly as if from a bomb “… I am just here for my friend, she kind of… needed moral support, after she discovered that her ‘long-term’ boyfriend had already a girlfriend aside from her”.

Oh, wasn’t that cliché.

“I am sorry for your best friend” muttered Hvitserk, as you lightly pointed out a pretty red-haired cutie with freckles that lightly rested on the bridge of her pointy nose, and he didn’t even have to move his glance to know that she was trying to confront that dickhead of Kurt.

Honestly, if that man had stopped sleeping with any girl on Earth he might have grasped onto his inner conflict and realized that his fuckboys ways were just an apparent and badly concealed attempt to hide his raging homoeroticism.

If there was one thing that Hvitserk had learned was to listen to words unsaid.

“… I am not” you muttered with a light bitterness in your tone that made Hvitserk move his eyes onto you again, as he smirked at that feistiness.

But it didn’t last long and suddenly you were shy again.

“… I fucking told her not to get with him, but hey… you should actually feel sorry for me”.

“I do feel sorry for you” he muttered back, with the most ironic tone he could get, as you lightly sent him a fake annoyed glance, making him blush.

Gosh, it was serious when he started blushing.

“Yeah… I mean… asking pity from strangers isn’t my best moment, but hey…” and you lightly shifted again that beautiful gaze onto the ground on your feet “… my friends just brought me to a party about a sport I don’t care for… and honestly soccer is stupid… men following after a ball… no thanks”.

And as soon as the words left your mouth, you raised your head with a shocked expression as if you had been surprised about what you had just said.

And then realized what a shitty idea it had been to insult the sport in which Hvitserk was probably involved.

“… I am sorry” shit the way your voice broke due to embarrassment made Hvitserk swallow his tongue as he tried to find something that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot.

And there weren’t many opinions.

“No worries” he muttered, raising softly the beer he had forgotten of having in his hands “… my brothers have said worse”.

It didn’t reassure you, but then the slight laugh that escaped Hvitserk’s lips did help to break the awkward situation and he was halfway through leaving you to comfort your friends, who was trying to scream over the loud music of the stereo to get her ‘boyfriend’ ‘s attention.

But you stopped him.

And Gosh, if that didn’t slightly physical contact put him into Heaven.

Hvitserk was a pretty touchy dude, one that certainly wasn’t afraid of hugs and kisses and in the end, it was what got every girl to leave him.

But what he wasn’t used to was physical contact prompted by somebody else.

And, shit, the fact that it was you amplified the effect a thousandth times.

“… I am truly sorry, I don’t… think you are… some caveman” you muttered, although with he way you were biting those dangerously beautiful lips that he wanted to kiss, you weren’t happy with the way the words sounded.

But to Hvitserk it didn’t matter.

You could have called him the worst words in the book, and he would have probably stood at attention like a puppy.

There were other things standing at attention in that moment, but he didn’t need to think about them in that moment.

No, little Hvitserk seriously don’t ruin the fucking mood.

“I am actually… very very grateful for you saving me from the dickhead” the fact that you had matched his exact words made him slightly dizzy but he urged himself to mutter a simple ‘no worries’, everybody would have done…’ “… no honestly nobody would have. So, I… this is very bold for somebody who insulted you a few minutes ago…”.

“I truly have to confirm to you that I have heard worst insults”.

With the way your eyes lightly dropped he couldn’t help but feel like the phrase wasn’t as funny as it sounded in his head.

Or maybe you had had a normal family.

“… would you… would you want to grab something?”.

Were you asking him out?

It wasn’t certainly the first time a girl had thrown herself to Hvitserk.

And he would be lying if he said, it didn’t flatter him.

But you were setting the pace with him, this time.

You weren’t throwing yourself at him.

You were telling him what to do.

Again, not the time little Hvitserk.

“… I don’t trust anything being cooked on that grid honestly” and you weren’t exactly wrong, Hvitserk who hadn’t been the type to avoid any kind of food, honestly didn’t feel any once of hunger for whatever was being cooked on there.

“Me neither”.

Gosh, again that annoyed smile, as if to say ‘we are in this shit together’.

“… well, I do think the least I can do is offer you a MacDonald, if you aren’t the type to count down calories…”.

“Bold of you to assume I can count after ten”.

This did gift him one of the best laughs he had ever heard and he definitely thought that maybe he had understood the direction his self-deprecating joke had to take to make you laugh.

“… well, then I do think that you are my type” and you immediately corrected yourself “… I meant obviously… what is with me and words today… but… I just… fuck! I don’t even know your name!”.

“Hvitserk” he uttered enchanted by your adorable embarrassed rage.

He swore he never thought somebody that angry could be cute.

And then there was you.

“Well, Hvitserk, I am (Y/N)” pretty name, pretty girl, damnit did you even have a weakness? “… and I’ll bring you to MacDonald once I manage to avoid a murder”.

“Don’t let me stop you” ok, finally he had said something smart, thank the gods “… and I insist that…”.

“Oh no, don’t even try it” yeah, he definitely liked being bossed out “… I invited you, I pay… and I do hope that you won’t be weirded out by the fact that I am a complete stranger”.

“I don’t think that you’d be able to put me in your car, if you drugged my food”.

Not creepy at all, Hvitserk.

He was starting to be worse at this than Ivar.

“… good” your eyes now sparkled lightly, as then a slight scream and a broken bottle adverted you that your attention was wanted somewhere else and with a small last nod to him and a quick ‘give me a few minutes’, you were gone.

And shit if it wasn’t suddenly a gloomy day for Hvitserk.

He hadn’t had a MacDonald’s date since middle grade, and he used that as a justification for his awkward behavior.

But the truth was that Hvitserk didn’t honestly know how to act with you.

He had fallen in and out of love many times, although he thought the more appropriate term for it was ‘lust’ since it never lasted for more than a tumble in the sheets.

But with you it wasn’t like that.

He honestly wanted to know more and as you settled in front of him to the awfully smelling fast food table, after you had ordered and you had kept up your promise to pay for his dinner, he couldn’t help but wonder where he should start.

Which questions would be creepier to ask and which would be more appropriate?

Thankfully, you started up.

“… oh by the way, just so you don’t think I am the type to dump a friend for a hot guy…” was that a slight admission of your interest for him? “… my friend is actually setting up on a revenge plan with the boy’s actual girlfriend and to say I am impressed it is… definitely an euphemism”.

“You’d be surprised at what the WAGs can turn out to be” he muttered lightly, glad that the conversation had shifted in his corner “… I am honestly impressed by the fact that any of them associate with those losers of the soccer team”.

“WAGs?” your nose scrunched up adorably in a confusion that looked strange at Hvitserk, but he just thought that maybe you hadn’t heard the acronym, not being an expert of the soccer field, definitely.

“Wives and girlfriends, it’s an acronym for the ‘trophy wives’ of soccer and many other sports” he explained quickly.

“… and do you have one?” the ways your eyes gleamed mischievously made Hvitserk, the fuckboy Casanova, blush and that was honestly a lot coming from him and he was more than glad when his drink came in and he was able to slurp a big gulp of it.

Although it wasn’t alcoholic.

Maybe he should have ordered something alcoholic.

“No, I am not…” ‘I am not the type to settle down, but for you I could, how many children do you want by the way?’ “… not the type, what about you? Any cute boy in your life, aside from this idiotic soccer boy”.

He hadn’t thought till that moment about a possible love interest in your life, in the end you didn’t seem the type to look for love adventures if you had one already, but if there was one thing that he had learned standing behind for all this time was that many didn’t look as they appeared.

“Not the type” now you were the one blushing and Gosh if Hvitserk didn’t want to gently pinch your cheeks “… but I am not opposed to it, I just prefer to avoid the dickhead you saved me from… and settled onto others…”.

You were definitely looking at him through your lashes and he had to divert his eyes.

As he diverted the theme of the conversation.

And by the end of your ‘date’, he couldn’t help but feel painfully how much it would have hurt for him not to see you anymore after this, and he had been relieved when you had suggested exchanging phone numbers, but avoiding the social medias questions.

Which made Hvitserk voice out his questions.

‘… I just… don’t believe in them’ he hadn’t heard many that said this, but he didn’t definitely dare to question your choice, if there was one thing that he had swiftly learnt was that you didn’t take shit from anybody ‘… just too many people seeing my life. I am… a simple girl”.

And he couldn’t disagree more with that.

And he showed it to you with his last once of braveness, after he had accompanied you back home, his lips finding yours as you melted against him, almost as if it felt natural.

As if you were part of him.

And he wanted to feel you closer in a way that you understood.

‘Do you want to come upstairs?’ and had it been anybody else, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

You would have looked so beautifully underneath him.

You noticed his hesitation, you sent him a slight smirk.

‘… I am a big girl I can handle it’.

And he had just to kiss those words off your lips.

“I just want to take my time with you… I need it”.

And when it happened after a few lovely dates and your biggest smiles, it felt good.

Awkwardly good.

His hair had tickled you, making you laugh awkwardly as you almost fell off the bed in the intensity of it.

But he had never felt this good and comfortable with you.

He had felt damnably alive for the first time in his life, like you were finally the one that looked at him as if he was solely there for you and everybody could see that, everybody could feel that.

Enough that he hadn’t been able to deny his proudness when he had finally visited his brothers with you by your side.

For the first time he hadn’t felt like he was lost behind, and he had told you he had loved you as he held you tight to his chest.

And then summer passed.

The phone calls started and Hvitserk had to disappear from you.

And as much as it pained him, he felt the distance he put between you and him.

Although you weren’t guilty.

But it was better you didn’t know the truth.

It would have spared you both so much pain.

But you’d still suffer some.

You were too smart and strong not to notice Hvitserk’s behavior and in the end, you had your own theories about it.

‘… you have somebody else’ it wasn’t a question.

it was a statement and he couldn’t do anything as he was confronted by this.

‘Did you ever love me?’ you anger was better than that mute sadness in your eyes.

The one that would have haunted him each night he’d fall asleep.

But he knew that he had to do this.

And he chose to stay mute when he wanted nothing more than deny those poisonous claims.

‘We burned the summer down there's dust when we're around’ it was the last thing you said quoting the song that he sang to you when you were in your bed together, annoyingly high, and that you had faked of hating.

But now he knew that you had heard him.

That you remembered him.

And after you were long gone, he hugged the air, as if it was a late embrace.

The last one he’d allow himself.

But it just brought him to tears.

It reminded him of what he had lost.

And what he’d lose.

But as he looked at himself in the hospital robe, definitely unflattering for his cute ass, according to Ivar, but he had lost any intention to laugh after he had first been admitted in the hospital, he just was utterly broken.

And it was only first set of chemotherapy.

At the start of the summer he had discovered of having cancer, a virulent kind.

One that would burn down his body, although the pharmaceutical treatment, that he had started during summer, had certainly eased up its effects for a bit, but now he couldn’t hide it anymore.

He had wanted to go as he had always lived: alone, unnoticed and without bothering anyone.

But Ivar had insisted to come with him.

‘I am the one who is most used to hospitals’ and when Hvitserk had protested against it, he had simply muttered ‘… and I do know that you’ll need someone when you vomit your guts out’.

He hadn’t wanted any pity.

But Ivar hadn’t ever been able to give any.

Still, he was seriously regretting bringing him along when he started talking about the weirdness of your absence by his side, although he must have by now understood that you weren’t together anymore.

‘It’s a pity’ he had muttered once Hvitserk had also confirmed it ‘… she could handle you…’.

“Would you quit talking about it, please?” he shot back, waiting onto the stretcher for what was going to happen next, the doctor coming in and talking about the procedure as if Hvitserk hadn’t just googled the whole program.

Why would he ever give you that pain?

The cancer he had was quite widespread and a small little bitch that would have caused hell to get out.

The chemotherapy was his last hope, and hadn’t it worked it would have thoroughly been the end for him.

He didn’t want to give you hope and the burden to take care of him as some kind of weak and frail bastard.

He couldn’t do that to you.

“… I am exercising my freedom of speech” Ivar, that sneaky bastard.

Deep down he was happy his brother was there,

“She was good, Hvitty” he continued on muttering, as if he didn’t already know “… you shouldn’t have broken her heart”.

“It’s too late to think about that now, isn’t it?” that it was.

It was for everything.

Since he had been handled his death certificate.

“It isn’t… and if I have learned a thing about this…” he pointed at his braced legs, the ones that had been told they’d never walk and now held him tight “… it is that you are never late at anything… the only thing you get from waiting is regrets”.

“When did you get so wise?” anything to push away that talk.

But Ivar didn’t let it go.

“When will you call her?”.

“It isn’t fair to put her through this” he had said everything that he needed to say in those words “… I just know that it wouldn’t be and I…”.

“What you are doing is deciding for her” Ivar put him through a new point of view and yet Hvitserk couldn’t do much more than stand there, painfully paralyzed.

Because it wasn’t truly the thought of protecting you from the horror of the sickness to stop him.

But what if you knew and pushed him away.

“What you are saying is that she is frail, but believe me… I have known her for something like thirty minutes and I have to tell you that she is as frail as a cyclone” when had his little brother gotten so good with words “… which means that you won’t be the same if she isn’t back in your life”.

It was true: you had changed him dangerously.

And what he was living without you wasn’t life.

In any way.

And yet…

“… what if she doesn’t want to be here?” ‘what if she is repelled by what she sees’.

“Again… the worst that could happen is a heartbreak, but could you live with the regret of her staying? Because personally if you can, you are a bigger coward than I…”.

“I got the point, brother” now a smartass smile was on Hvitserk’s mouth “… way to kick down a sick man, brother, you are the shittiest shit”.

“Love you, too”.

Then the doctor divided them to prepare Hvitserk for the first session, making sure that he was sterile and ready, having to sign a few last forms and he asked Ivar to leave him alone, although he’d have to see his ‘ugly face’ again before it all started.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared.

And although he hadn’t searched you, he wanted you by his side in that moment.

He didn’t know what he would given your for just being there.

And apparently this was the last wish he’d get answered.

After he had been set up on the wheelchair, he saw you, outside of the room.

Talking with his brother.

It almost broke him.

And then he smiled.

And your eyes met his.

And you smiled at him, although shyly.

He knew that he had hurt you, but he wanted to be selfish.

Again.

You walked into the room, after Ivar unceremoniously pushed you in, and although he was aware he couldn’t touch you, he just wanted to hug you closer and just have you beside himself.

But for now, he just choked back that ask.

And you didn’t comment on his discarded appearance.

“I find you good” what the fuck Hvitserk… that’s the smartest you can say?

No, no wrong idea.

“… I would say the same, but you look like shit” he had missed that tint of unfiltered sarcasm “… but I am glad that Ivar called me”.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to put you through this” he knew that there was no need to leave out any premise with you “… this isn’t where you should be, this will only go worse and you’ll be…”.

“I want to be here” and then your eyes became rageful but not broken “… I wish that you had told me the truth… instead of letting me think that you were cheating on me… I don’t care about whatever has put you in, I want to be beside you”.

“Do you?” he didn’t mean to sound so skeptic and harsh “… because it’ll be horrible, I’ll vomit blood, I’ll probably be not able to get it up and I’ll be even dumber than…”.

“I already tolerate at least two on three of those things”.

It wasn’t meant to be funny.

But he laughed.

He laughed so freely that he knew that he couldn’t let you go.

Although it was selfish.

You were indeed a cyclone.

And he’d be happy to be ‘swept away’ from you.

“… you aren’t being that supportive”.

“I’ll kick your ass if you don’t beat this cancer”.

“That isn’t any better”.

“I love you” and with the tears in your eyes he knew that you meant it.

“I love you, too”.

And he knew that he wasn’t alone, anymore, in this shit, no matter what.

Summer was gone, but now Autumn bloomed all around them.


End file.
